


Ripple Effect

by MaiKusakabe



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/pseuds/MaiKusakabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripple Effect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aerle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerle/gifts).



> I wrote this story for Aerle's birthday of 2014. I intended it to be a one-shot, but it grew and grew and I was forced to originally post it in chapters on ffnet. Here, however, I have decided to post it in its intended original format, so here goes a long one-shot.
> 
> Story beta-read by TheRedHarlequin :)

Ace’s head hung low, chin touching his chest as he stared unseeingly down at his hanging feet, his body held against the tree by the rope those damn bandits had tied around him and the trunk to keep him there. He wasn’t yelling anymore, that had been the first thing he had stopped doing, nor was he trying to break free now and, though his eyes hurt after staying so many hours awake, he refused to sleep, his brain instead drifting over to the words heard earlier that day.

All of this was his fault. He and Sabo were supposed to have been at the Grey Terminal as always, beating anybody who got in their way and collecting more treasure, but now nothing of that could happen ever again because he had been a fucking idiot who had had to go and steal from one of Bluejam’s men all those months ago. From that day on, things had gone downhill, even if neither he nor Sabo had realized it at that point.

Beating that Polchemy guy and the men he had under his command had seemed the only possible action back then, as those men had been searching for them, though Ace was reasonably sure that particular action hadn’t affected much Bluejam’s decision to come after them. Still, now Ace guessed the best option would have been to simply return the money and give them some more treasure as an apology or something. Treasure was just that, treasure, and they could always collect more, but neither of them had thought about that possibility.

Instead, Sabo had come to hide at Dadan’s and the two boys had fallen under the illusion that everything was fine. They had become even closer than they had been in the past, and finally decided to become brothers.

And then Sabo’s father had appeared.

Ace still wasn’t sure if, despite how much of a piece of shit he had been, Bluejam had been right in saying Sabo was better off with his family, despite his brother’s opinion on them. After all, Ace couldn’t fathom how someone would have been better with someone like him than anyone else, but Sabo must have thought he couldn’t stay with his family, just like when he was little.

No, Sabo had tried to leave and now he was dead. And it was all Ace’s fault.

 

* * *

 

 

_Ace,_

_You weren’t hurt in the fire, were you? I’m worried about you, but I know you’re fine. I feel bad telling you this, but when you read this I’ll already be out at sea. Things happened, and it seems I’ll be going before you do. I’m not sure where I’ll go yet, but anywhere is better than this country. Then, I’ll get stronger and become a real pirate._

_When we’ve both become pirates with more freedom than anyone in the world, let’s meet again somewhere. Somewhere out in the wide, open sea, I know I’ll see you again._

_You know, Ace, I wonder which of us is the oldest? It’s strange to be two older brothers, but this bond is my greatest treasure._

_Take care, Ace._

Ace sat on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the sea, hands clutching Sabo’s letter as he read it again for the umpteenth time.

He didn’t sob now when his eyes roved over the words he had already memorized. He couldn’t cry, his eyes so dry after weeping for so long Ace wouldn’t be surprised if they became unable to produce tears ever again.

It had passed some time since Ace had read the letter for the first time, a little over a day, as now the sun was setting for the second time since he got here.

The raw pain his time tied to the tree had weakened somewhat and Sabo’s letter had brought back in full force had now dulled, giving way to the dark thoughts that invaded his mind almost every time he came to this particular spot facing the ocean.

Dark thoughts and the realization, though it should have been there from the start, that he had lost the only person who really mattered to him in this world.

With that realization came another thought. They had promised to leave the island when they turned seventeen, but Sabo had left earlier and hadn’t made it. Ace wondered if he would. If he managed to leave, he would make sure to live a life with more freedom than anyone else, as a pirate just like both he and Sabo had always dreamed to be. It would be his tribute to his brother, to sail the world, live adventures and not having to depend on what others tried to impose on him. If he didn’t manage it, then that would mean the world had been right from the start and Ace really shouldn’t have been born. Right now, he was inclined to believe the world was right, but it would be an insult to Sabo if he just gave up.

His mind made up, Ace decided now was the time to set sail.

 

* * *

 

 

When morning came, many inhabitants of the town center of Goa Kingdom woke to discover some of their possessions, in particular money and jewelry, had disappeared. The police station was swarmed by reports on this matter and, in looks of all the displeased citizens who had lost their valuable belongings, no one paid much attention to a fisherman’s complaint about his stolen boat, just like the disappearance of almost all the food from those houses was overlooked by the owners.

Portgas D. Ace, the perpetrator of these crimes, was unaware of the ruckus his actions had caused, too busy organizing his provisions and new treasure in the small cabin of his new boat.

There had been bigger boats, even some that had beds inside their cabins, but in this one he had found the most valuable of all his newly acquired possessions, something he hadn’t been able to find in any of the houses, and would have required him to rob a store: navigation tools.

Now, he was no expert like Sabo had been, but he had paid attention when Sabo explained something, and had even read a book or two once it was clear they wouldn’t be in the same crew. Ace hoped that would be enough to sail the East Blue. He guessed he would become better at it as time passed.

Ace came out of the cabin once he was sure nothing would get out of place due to the sway of the boat and looked up.

The sky was clear, only small white clouds drifting through it, and Ace allowed himself to close his eyes and feel the ocean breeze drift past him.

It was so strange to be out at sea.

He had known he would leave in a boat on his own some day, but he had expected that day to be his seventeenth birthday, and had hoped by then to be tall and muscular, not a scrawny brat who couldn’t protect anyone.

Shaking his head furiously to get rid of that thought, Ace looked at the empty area of the small deck opposite to where the fishing tools were kept and decided some workout was in order.

 

* * *

 

 

The man fell down with a thud and landed sprawled on the ground, unconscious and with a bleeding wound open on his head where it had hit the pavement.

Ace looked at his hands, clenched around the wooden stick, and gave them a displeased look.

He still was too weak. That man, a pirate who didn’t even have a bounty, had almost defeated him when Ace tried to take him on with his bare hands, the boy being forced to grab the first object he found that resembled a pipe to fight.

Ace hadn’t brought his pipe with him, he hadn’t felt capable of using it again without being invaded by memories of his deceased brother, and now was starting to regret his decision. But he wouldn’t get a replacement one to suit his needs, no. Ace didn’t want to depend on a weapon to fight, he wanted to be able to use his hands and legs for that, and it was for this same reason that he vowed to train even more than he already was doing. To become stronger.

With that thought in mind, Ace decided to go in search of the local thugs. Every city had its own weak thugs who thought themselves to be something great, and they were very useful to test one’s abilities for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Monkey D. Garp sat behind his desk at Marine Headquarters after returning from another unsuccessful search at East Blue.

Sure, he had visited Luffy at Foosha and spent two weeks training him, but he had found no trace of his other grandson.

As always.

Ace had disappeared over a year ago, right after Sabo had died, leaving behind nothing but a short letter scrawled on a small piece of paper where he told Dadan that now she wouldn’t have to worry about spending money on him. He had also written a few lines for Garp, telling him this way he wouldn’t be putting himself in danger for protecting Ace, and that, despite being a shitty old geezer, he wasn’t all that bad as a grandfather.

That was the best compliment Garp had ever received from Ace.

The boy had been gone for a month when Garp had gone to Dadan’s that time, and the only reason the marine hadn’t really done anything to the bandits was that he could see how genuinely worried they were about the boy. Garp was worried, too, so worried that he had started crying right there, clutching the letter he still kept to this day in one hand.

He had left the island right away, barely stopping to say goodbye to Luffy, and had searched for as long as he had managed to stay away from headquarters before Sengoku threatened to go out to East Blue and drag his ass back to Marineford.

Garp had only managed to hear some rumors about a monster brat beating people up at different islands, but he had already been gone when the marine arrived at those islands. Through the descriptions provided by some of the victims, that all coincided it was an angry dark haired kid with freckles on his face, Garp knew it was Ace. He had heard them every time he went to East Blue at one island at least, but hadn’t been able to find Ace all the same.

The marine had conflicting emotions regarding those rumors. In one hand, they were proof that Ace was at least alive, and becoming stronger as every time his victims were stronger as well, but at the same time they meant the boy was putting himself in constant danger, and that worried Garp.

In his last trip, the vice admiral had even heard mention to these incidents at a marine base he had stopped at for supplies, and couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before they managed to discover who the one behind the attacks was. At least the men talking about it had seemed incredulous at the idea of a child beating adults like that.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace staggered backwards, barely managing to stay on his feet when he was punched right on the face.

There was laughter around him and the same man who punched him grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and lifted him up, pulling the boy closer to his face. Ace turned his head, not wanting to get the disgusting man’s rotten breath right on his face.

“So you’re that monster brat who’s been attacking people all over East Blue, huh?”

Ace glared at the man and tried to pull the hand holding him off, earning a punch to the stomach.

There was more laughter around him from the other men.

“You gonna kill him, boss?” Someone asked, and Ace held back the urge to turn around and glare at the one who spoke, keeping his eyes on the most immediate threat.

“Nah. This brat’s strong, we could use him.”

In that moment, hearing those words, Ace was reminded of Bluejam. Bluejam, who had used him to prepare the fire that burned Grey Terminal. Bluejam, who had come with Sabo’s father to take Sabo away from him.

Ace saw red.

“I’m not working for you!” He yelled and, before anybody could react, had kicked the man in the face with enough strength to make him release Ace and fall backwards holding his now broken nose.

Without thinking, Ace lunged at him, viciously punching and hitting the adult, not realizing that the blows that hadn’t caused too much damage earlier were now easily breaking through skin, muscle and bone.

It wasn’t until later, when he was the only one standing in that alley, that Ace stared down at his hands and realized he had caused much more damage than his strength should have allowed him. Confused, he wondered why none of the other men had attacked him and raised his head to look around, finding all of them there, sprawled on the ground with their weapons scattered around them, having fallen from their hands. None of them were awake.

He wondered about it, but couldn’t find any explanation for what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace grinned, looking around to make sure none of his enemies were conscious before he walked up to the last man he had defeated, unconscious as the rest of his crew.

He remembered seeing this man’s face before, he was a relatively famous pirate here in East Blue, with a bounty of ten million beli on his head, far above the average for pirates in this sea. That was a nice sum, and would have done nicely to replace his already too worn out boat, but unfortunately Ace couldn’t claim it.

He might not be the smartest person around, but he was no idiot either. Ace had heard the rumors going around about him, and knew as soon as a twelve year old boy appeared at a marine base dragging a thoroughly defeated and dangerous pirate captain, the marines would make the connection and identify him. He may not have an official bounty on his head, but Ace wasn’t too sure that would mean they would allow him to simply walk away with the money.

It wasn’t something he was eager to test.

But, even without obtaining the money, there had been some perks to this fight. He had won, to begin with, and had managed to use the strange skill that appeared some months ago to do so. Granted, it hadn’t been perfect as he couldn’t exactly use it at will, but anger had been perfect to make it appear. He hadn’t been doing bad before that, although he had been greatly outnumbered, but once that skill appeared again it had been a matter of a few minutes to take all the small fry out, and the captain had gone down easily in a one to one fight.

Ace didn’t know what that skill that enhanced his strength so much was, he hadn’t been able to find any information on it, but it didn’t really matter as long as it was useful. And it wasn’t the only unexplained power, either. No, Ace could also feel things. He instinctively knew where people was, was able to predict others’ attacks and sometimes could even get an idea of how strong someone was.

At one point Ace had considered the possibility of having accidentally eaten a Devil Fruit, but he could still swim, so that option was discarded.

After various failed attempts at discovering what was happening to him, Ace had decided to ignore the why and instead concentrate on learning how to control these new abilities. Looking around, he didn’t seem to be doing too bad.

The bad thing was that this crew was among the strongest of East Blue, and that meant soon this sea wouldn’t be enough for him to train.

Maybe it was time to search information about how to enter the Grand Line.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace walked through the busy streets of late afternoon, careful to avoid any collisions that could damage his precious purchases. Aside from ridiculously expensive, Log Poses looked to be frail items, and Ace really didn’t to risk his luck and break one. He would have to raid a pirate ship or two just to gather the necessary money to buy another if this one broke.

At least the navigation using this strange compass seemed easy enough, or would have been if it weren’t for the strange things he had read about the Grand Line’s weather. He would have brushed most of it off as lies or exaggerations if it weren’t for the stories he remembered his gramps telling him years ago, when Ace was little and still didn’t know much about the world.

He shook his head, trying to erase all memories of the man he still cared about despite his less than stellar nurturing skills, and froze when he saw where his steps had brought him.

He was at a wide plaza, people walking around him just like everywhere else in the busy town, and there, standing at the other end of the square open space, was a tall wooden structure.

The scaffold.

The place where everything began. The place where the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger’s, execution had taken place fifteen years ago, where Ace’s place in the world had been erased even before he was born.

Ace stalked off through one of the many streets leaving the plaza and decided he could use a drink. He had long since learned how to threaten bartenders into selling him booze, and many people didn’t even care about selling alcohol to a boy who wasn’t even fourteen as long as he could pay for it.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace looked around, fascinated at the water ascending at high speed through the path that would lead him to the Grand Line.

He was finally here. It had taken him almost a year to gather all the necessary information to enter the greatest ocean in the world, as well as finding a boat strong enough to resist the rough entrance but that he could manage by himself, but now he was finally here.

He had managed to enter the channel by a hair’s breath, for a long moment sure he wouldn’t make it and instead crash against the rock wall, and now, with the water carrying him up, he laughed.

He laughed for the first time in many months, and when the boat jumped in the air and fell onto the rapidly descending current he allowed himself to grin widely and stare ahead with fascination, for the eternal moments it took for him to descend to the calmer waters below going back to be the child that had ran through Grey Terminal and Goa Kingdom with his brother and best friend, laughing and fighting and dreaming of becoming a great pirate someday.

Up on the mast, the pirate flag he had finally decided to hoist flapped furiously, moved by the strong wind.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace glared ahead, arms crossed and eyes following the strange old man whose hair resembled a flower as he moved about his boat.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise that his boat had suffered damage from the arrival into the Grand Line, but Ace had hoped it would be in a good enough condition to reach the first island. It was, but this man had offered to help him all the same, clearly surprised and curious at seeing someone his age alone here.

Ace would have refused, but he had long since learned to take advantage of all the chances presented to him. He had also learned to be wary of them. Still, his sensing ability told him this weird man was strong, far stronger than Ace was, and the boy was aware that the man, who apparently was a doctor, didn’t need to trick him if he really wanted to harm him.

That didn’t mean Ace couldn’t mistrust or glare at him.

He liked the whale, though. It didn’t pay any attention to Ace, but he had always liked animals. You didn’t need to worry about them stabbing you in the back. And he was curious about the scars. He wondered how such a big whale could have got so many of them, and really big ones at that.

Ace got his answer when a loud, earsplitting wail filled the air right before the whale began to bang its head against the Red Line.

The man, Crocus, left what he was doing and ran to the edge of the cape, yelling for it to stop hurting itself.

Laboon, that was the whale’s name.

Judging by both the number of scars and the resigned sigh of the doctor, Ace could guess this was a very common occurrence.

Hours later, after Ace had decided to help Crocus fix his boat, they sat for dinner, the man having insisted the boy stay the night and leave the next morning, arguing that it would be suicide for Ace to start his trip through the Grand Line in the middle of the night. That, the promise of free food and Ace’s reluctant belief that Crocus didn’t seem like a bad person had convinced him to stay.

“I’m curious,” the man said between mouthfuls of what he claimed was sea king meat, “how come a boy your age is a pirate on his own? Shouldn’t you have searched a ship to be an apprentice at? That’s the most common thing.”

Ace shrugged and bit off another piece of meat. He wasn’t sure if it was really sea king or not, but what he couldn’t argue was that there was plenty of food and it was delicious.

“I didn’t want to work for anybody.” He explained when his mouth wasn’t so full.

“Then why don’t get a crew of your own?”

“Don’t need it.”

Crocus didn’t answer, instead giving him a long, considering look while Ace continued to wolf down dinner. Once his plate was empty, Ace reached for one of the still full plates on a side table.

“What?” He asked, noticing the man was still looking at him.

Crocus shook his head.

“Nothing. When I saw you, I thought you resembled someone I knew, but you’re very different.” Ace gave him a confused look and brought the plate in front of him. Crocus laughed. “You have his same appetite, though.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace had decided to take his advance through the Grand Line calmly.

At the first island he arrived, the pirate boy had soon discovered people here were considerably stronger than those he was used to fight, both local thugs and pirates alike. That hadn’t prevented him from beating up some crew who had laughed at him for ‘playing pirate’.

It was becoming easier to control his abilities, he just had to think of something that really pissed him off for the strengthening power to appear. Remembering Bluejam did the job spectacularly.

But the fight had been hard and had taken a toll on him, and that was the reason why Ace had decided to stay on this island and train even after the Log Pose fixed on the next destination. It would take a week for that to happen, according to a nice lady from the market.

 

* * *

 

 

Garp’s blood ran cold through his veins, as it had done ever since he saw the daily memo sent to all marine officers. He usually only gave it a quick browse and maybe came up with some funny thoughts at the bounty upgrades and new criminals with a price on their heads, but today one of the three wanted posters there had frozen the world around him.

There, on his desk, lay a new wanted poster, the picture of the grandson who had gone missing over three years ago glaring up at him.

Twenty million beli. That was what the government offered for the head of his almost fourteen year old grandson.

That paper, that innocent piece of paper, destroyed any chances there might have been left of finding Ace and taking him back to Mount Colbo, where he could have stayed safe for at least some more years.

And it also told Garp many things about his grandson.

Ace looked tired and angry, had deep shadows under his frowning eyes, his brow furrowed and his mouth drawn down. If he hadn’t known better, that picture would have led him to believe he was fifteen, maybe even sixteen. Not even the boyish freckles on his face helped to soften his expression.

Also, reading the list of Ace’s crimes, he now knew his grandson had entered the Grand Line, apparently a couple of months ago, though he didn’t seem to be advancing fast through it. That might increase Garp’s chances of finding him, at least as long as Ace stayed in Paradise, even if he wasn’t sure what he would do now if he did manage to find his grandson. He wouldn’t arrest him, that was for sure, but he couldn’t take him to a safe place either, and entering him to become a marine wasn’t an option anymore.

And then there was the name on the wanted poster. Ace. No Portgas, no D. Just Ace. That, in itself, was a blessing despite the circumstances. It gave him a certain anonymity, hiding his relationship with anything that might have alerted the marines and the government about his possible dangerous potential, effectively erasing any interest a higher up marine officer might have had in him. That, at least, was something.

Despite not knowing what to do, Garp was still determined to find him. He might not be able to protect him from this, but he at least wanted to make sure with his own eyes that Ace was alive and as fine as possible.

For now, the vice admiral realized the best thing he could do to help the boy was hide his relationship with his oldest grandson. Sengoku would immediately know he wasn’t Dragon’s, as Garp had boasted about Luffy in numerous occasions, and it wouldn’t be hard for his old friend to figure out whose son Ace was.

Sighing deeply, Garp brushed a thumb over the picture and wished with all his will that Ace would be able to surpass all the trouble this simple paper would bring his way.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco the Phoenix raised an eyebrow at one of the wanted posters that had come with that morning’s newspaper. He liked to stay up to date on the people the government considered dangerous. While most of these people were weaklings that he forgot about as soon as he read about them, sometimes there appeared a strong person or crew that had potential. He liked to keep an eye on those, as relatively strong crews had a thing for trying to defy the Whitebeard Pirates as soon as they reached the New World, and Marco liked to know what possible enemies they might face in the future.

This, however, was strange. It didn’t catch his attention for the bounty that, though not bad for a first one, was pretty low. No, what caught his attention was the picture attached to it, the scowling face of a teenager who still seemed to have at least a couple of years to go before he could be considered an adult. A boy that age, if he was a pirate, usually would be a cabin boy that would go unnoticed by the marines and most other pirates, not a pirate on his own who went around fighting other wanted people.

“Oi, Thatch.” His friend looked up from his breakfast. “Look at this,” he said, throwing the wanted poster to the other commander. He waited until the man had looked at the picture before asking: “How old do you think that kid is?”

“Dunno, fifteen? What’s with marines and putting bounties on kids?” He asked rhetorically, and then added. “And this epithet is lame. ’The monster child’? Really? These guys need to hire someone with imagination.”

Marco smiled at his friend’s comment. Another of the reasons why he looked at wanted posters was to have a laugh with his crewmates at some of them. But he didn’t find this one amusing. The bounty might be low, but for a boy that age to earn it, and as a first one no less, was at least interesting.

Marco decided he would keep an eye out for this Ace guy when he read the newspaper from now on.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace had laughed hard when he saw his wanted poster at a bar of questionable patronage, extremely pleased with himself that he had earned his first bounty, and a very good one for someone who came from East Blue.

His laughter had attracted the attention of the other people there, and some of them had apparently recognized him, as a burly man stated cockily he had found a lot of easy cash and tried to capture him. After said man was flung through a wall no one else tried, and Ace was disappointed that there wasn’t anyone strong in the bar. A good fight would have been a great way to celebrate his entrance into the wanted people list.

He felt really proud of himself and, for a short moment, indulged in thoughts of what could have been the reactions of the people that had been relevant in his life. Sabo would have laughed, just like him, and suggested they celebrate. His brother might even have expressed his jealousy at Ace having a bounty before he did. Dadan would have yelled at him, annoyed that Ace always did whatever he wanted. And Gramps would have got mad, _really mad_ , and probably beat him to a pulp for daring to become a pirate.

Ace froze at this last thought.

Gramps was a marine. A marine vice admiral, no less. He probably knew about this already.

He stood up, running off of the bar, unconsciously emulating his old tradition of leaving before paying with Sabo, and ignored the bartender’s yells as he headed as fast as possible for the port.

He had to get out of here. To another island. Preferably an island from a different route than the one he had been following so far.

Ace might not place any value in his own life, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die at that man’s hands. No way in hell.

 

* * *

 

 

Fifteen year old Portgas D. Ace sat on a bar stool at Water Seven, distractedly thinking about the strange city he was at while he devoured his meal, expertly ignoring the horrified stares around him.

Recently, his boat had been damaged after a particularly nasty storm, and at the island he had arrived next, a place with excellent food called Pucci, he was told about this island that was supposed to have some of the best shipwrights in the world. His boat hadn’t been in any condition to sail further, but luckily both islands were connected by the Sea Train, an impressive machine that had made Ace practically drool at the sight of it, and he had managed to get his boat transported by it, even if it had been somewhat expensive. Then he had hired one of these animals that acted as a means of transportation in the beautiful city of water, a huge King Bull, to take his damaged boat to one of the docks, where he had been surprised at the ease with which the shipwrights had acted, apparently having no problem about working for pirates.

Ace hadn’t been the only pirate there, and had been glad to know his rather generous treasure would be more than enough to pay for the repairs. He would have to wait some days for the repairs to be done though, and that meant now Ace had to find a hotel to stay meanwhile.

His next destination was, finally, Sabaody Archipelago, the last stop before Fishman Island and, at long last, the New World. It had taken him almost two years to cross the first half of the Grand Line, but he finally was almost there and the long wait had been worth it. He was now much stronger than he had been when he first entered this ocean, as his bounty of now one hundred and fifty million beli indicated, and had lived many things he once thought were only impossible dreams.

Now it wouldn’t be long before he visited one of the most mythical places of the world and, with that thought in mind, Ace decided that as soon as he had found a hotel he would go in search of information about the New World and, luckily, the way to reach Fishman Island. According to some maps he had seen, the island was right below the Red Line.

 

* * *

 

 

Sabaody was, put in one word, impressive. The bubbles floating everywhere, along with the architecture of the place, mostly consisting on circular shapes that reminded of those same bubbles and the tall Mangroves rising far above the trees gave the place a fairy tale-like appearance that was dampened by the rumors Ace had heard about slavery still being a common practice in this place, sanctioned by the marines who simply turned a blind eye on it so the Tenryuubito could have a place to acquire their slaves.

Ace had heard enough about the Tenryuubito, all of it whispered in low and fearful voices, to know he really didn’t want to encounter one in case he couldn’t resist the urge to punch their face in if he saw them do something disgusting.

That was one of the reasons he decided to head for the lawless area, along with the idea that it would probably be easier to find information about a coating engineer who didn’t mind working for pirates there. He would rather avoid the hassle of threatening an unwilling person to do it and risking a lousy job because of that. It was his life on the line here, after all.

Entering a bar, he sat on one of the few free stools on the counter and asked for the first thing that caught his fancy of all the bottles behind the bartender, along with food. Lots of it. As much as the man could fit in the space before him. Said man looked at him strangely, a skeptical look on his face at the request, but complied nonetheless.

He ate and drank in silence for a while, listening to the conversations around him in hopes of hearing something useful but, when he couldn’t hear anything of interest, he decided to ask.

“Hey, boss,” Ace spoke to the bartender in his most polite way, having learned that calling someone ‘asshole’ or ‘bastard’ didn’t get you far when you wanted to gain some information, “you know of any good coating engineer around here?”

The man, who up to this point had been directing astonished looks his way as Ace devoured all the food he had ordered, smiled. Not a nervous gesture, despite the fact that the man obviously knew who he was as Ace’s wanted poster hung in one of the walls, and answered him.

“Actually, you’re sitting next to one. Right, Ray-san?”

Ace turned his head around in both directions and settled on the old man to his right who now was looking at him.

“Really? You’re a coating engineer, old man?” Ace bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth, remembering a lot of people didn’t like to be called old even if they did have long gray hair, a matching weird beard and more wrinkles on his face than Ace could count. He fleetingly thought the man looked slightly familiar.

The boy cursed internally, fearing he had lost his chance.

But the man just laughed heartily.

“Yeah, I am.”

Ace grinned.

“Can you do my ship, then?” He asked excitedly.

“It depends. Can you pay, brat?”

Ace crossed his arms, suddenly annoyed at the old geezer’s question.

“Of course I can.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace had been worried that his boat would be too small to be coated and go all the way down to Fishman Island, fearing he would be forced to find another way to go there, but according to the engineer, Ray-san, it was big enough for Ace to make it with more than enough air if he went alone. Now they were on it, moving the boat to a more secluded place where the man said he would be able to work better. It would take at least three days to coat the boat, even with its small size.

Ace guessed he could have a look around meanwhile. He still hadn’t found a New World Log Pose, after all.

“So you’re a pirate, eh? It’s surprising how young some people make that decision.” The old man said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Ace answered, having heard that same comment too many times to be offended by it any longer. He guessed it _was_ strange that someone his age, even more the age he had been when he set sail, was a pirate, and could understand some people was surprised by it. Ray-san wasn’t surprised, though, he just seemed to have stated a fact.

“I knew two brats your age who were pirates, too. They were apprentices.” The man said in a strange tone of voice. It sounded almost melancholic.

Ace turned his head to look at him and, sure enough, there was a faint trace of wistfulness in his expression.

“You were a pirate, old man?”

Ray-san grinned, a bright and somewhat happy gesture that somehow still managed to look sad.

“Yes. It was a long time ago.”

Ace stared at the man, his posture relaxing a little after obtaining that knowledge. If Ray-san was a former pirate, it was less likely that he would try to sell Ace or something. Hell, the man might even have a bounty on his head, and that would make selling Ace really hard on him.

He froze, eyes fixed on the man. A picture from a book he had read many years ago, when he was just a little boy trying to understand why the world couldn’t know he existed, came to his mind. A blond man with a strange dark beard on his chin, round glasses and a confident smile appeared above an obscenely high sum of money and a name famous all around the world.

Silvers Rayleigh.

Ray-san.

Ace stared and, before he could think properly, his stupid mouth opened and uttered the name of the Dark King, the first mate of the Pirate King.

He didn’t know what reaction he had been expecting, but for the man to laugh certainly wasn’t it.

“You’d better not go throwing that name around, kid. I’m old, I’d like to live a peaceful life.”

Ace frowned, and for a moment thought of steering the boat to the coast and ask the man to get out, that he would find someone else to help him. But he didn’t want to look weak, and so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t say a word.

A silence that weighed heavily on Ace’s mind settled on the boat.

“What’s your name, boy?” Rayleigh asked after long minutes. Ace looked sideways at him. “And I don’t mean just the ‘Ace’ from your wanted poster. Your full name.”

Ace debated not telling him, but his pride didn’t allow him to just stay silent, and it wasn’t as if his name would make a great difference in his life, at least not the name he had chosen for himself. He had renounced his birth name long ago.

“Portgas D. Ace.”

Again, he was surprised at the Dark King’s response.

“Rouge’s son? I liked her.”

For the first time, Ace turned to look fully at him, surprise written all over his face.

“… You knew her?”

“We met her a long time ago.” Rayleigh smiled sadly. “Am I wrong in assuming she’s dead?”

Ace shook his head and, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, provided an answer for an unasked question.

“She died giving birth to me.”

He was surprised at the genuine sadness in Rayleigh’s eyes. This man was the first person aside from gramps he had met who knew his mother, and the obvious sorrow at the news of her death made Ace’s animosity toward him slightly decrease.

Silence settled once more until the older man spoke again.

“Tell me, Ace, are you Roger’s son as well?”

Ace tensed, back going ramrod straight and hands clenching in tight fists.

“What if I am?” He snapped.

Rayleigh shook his head.

“I guess you don’t like him much.”

“Why should I?!” He yelled, feeling the sudden urge to express all his thoughts on the useless man who had sired him, but Rayleigh spoke before he could begin.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard about him. The rumors, I’d imagine, but maybe you should ask about him to those who knew him instead of forming an opinion based on what people who never met Roger think.”

Ace paused, his stance going slack involuntarily, and he stared.

“I don’t know what your grudge against him is, but Roger was my captain and best friend.” Rayleigh said, confusing Ace further. Aside from gramps’ fond memories of his fights with the Pirate King and the time he told Ace that Roger wasn’t that bad a guy, Silvers Rayleigh was the first person Ace had met who seemed to have a good opinion about Gol D. Roger.

Seeing the deep sadness in the man’s eyes when he said those last words, Ace decided to hold back any further comments on the topic.

Rayleigh raised an arm and pointed to one of the various rivers sneaking between the enormous trees.

“Let’s go through there. And don’t worry about the money, take it as a present.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ace left the tattoo parlor resisting the urge to rub his bandaged upper left arm. There, just waiting to heal a little to be uncovered, now lay his new tattoo, a mark depicting his name along with a crossed out S between the A and the C. The tattoo artist had looked strangely at him when Ace told him what it was he wanted, but then the man just shrugged and proceeded to draw the design for him. It was better that way, Ace would have had to punch him in the face if the guy had made any comment on how it would look better without the S. That had happened back at Sabaody when, during the time he waited for the coating to be completed, he had decided it was a good moment to get the tattoo he had been thinking of for months.

A tribute to Sabo on his own skin.

People might think the S was a mistake, or just some stupid statement of how his name wasn’t pronounced, but the truth was that letter was the most important part of the tattoo, and it had nothing to do with his name.

Yawning, Ace decided it was time to start looking for information about his target. The man might be really important, but the New World was a big sea and it would be stupid to go around blindly and hope to find him.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace sat up on the bed and looked around the dark room he was in. He hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but one of his sudden sleep attacks had decided to contradict him and now here he was, waking up what could be hours after he first entered the place.

Standing up, the young pirate knelt on the floor and started to blindly search for his clothes there, refusing to turn the lights on and wake up his sleeping companion. It might have been a very fun night, and Ace certainly didn’t regret his decision of losing his virginity, but that didn’t mean he was up to any post coital conversation, and he didn’t even want to imagine what he would say if the guy decided he wanted to know Ace further. The boy had seen in his face that the man he had met last night hadn’t recognized him as a wanted criminal.

Grinning when he found his pants, Ace put them on, now glad he had decided underwear wasn’t worth it a long time ago. Next came his boots and, when he finally threw his shirt on, the young pirate stood up and left the room, a last glance to the bed to make sure the man was still sound asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace chuckled, ignoring the glares directed his way, and chuckled some more when he looked again at all the badly drawn hands giving the middle finger he had managed to doodle in the paper after long, and in his opinion well invested, hours of effort invested in learning how to draw them.

At first, when that letter reached him, he had been furious, fuming for three hours straight until he found some unfortunate pirates to help relieve his irritation. Once he had calmed somewhat, Ace had started to think of the better way to answer the missive, and this idea had occurred to him. He had liked it so much that he had even bought the necessary materials and sought out the local library, taking a children’s book to get an idea of how hands were drawn. He had never before drawn anything, after all, but the result, by no means perfect, gave his message nicely.

Along with the words ‘You can take your offer and shove it up your fucking asses’, followed by a smiling face that had also taken some practice to draw half-decently, was Ace’s response to the world government’s offer to join the Shichibukai.

Taking the envelope and carefully placing his masterpiece inside, Ace wondered who read these letters and almost laughed out loud at the thought of his grandfather’s reaction.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace panted heavily, both knees and a hand on the hard ground and his other hand rubbing off some blood from his forehead before it could fall on his eyes.

He cursed. He had got overconfident.

For the last few months, almost half a year, even though his bounty wasn’t exceedingly high at three hundred million beli, he had been able to defeat with relative ease all of his opponents, including some that had higher prices on their heads than he did and, for some reason, he had thought he was ready to fight him.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

Three attacks and the strongest man in the world had him on his knees holding to the last strings of his strength. And the worst part was that Ace hadn’t managed to land a single blow on him.

But that didn’t mean he would go down easily.

With an enraged scream, Ace attacked again.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco looked down at the unconscious young man on the infirmary bed.

He was all covered in bandages and deeply asleep, probably the only reason he was alive being that Pops had decided he liked him.

His bounty had gone steadily up there past two years, and seeing how it had risen more often than not when he appeared in the newspaper, the brat seemed to have a thing for going after people considered stronger than him. What happened last night confirmed it. The kid had drawn their attention by going to one of their islands and forcing the people there to call them, though luckily for him he hadn’t killed anyone, and then proceeded to go for the captain straight away. He had easily punched out of the way most of the crewmembers who tried to stop him, the commanders standing back as it was only one opponent.

The brat had lost, that was true, but it had been clear that the only ones aside from the captain who could stop him were the commanders, and that was why Marco was now on watch duty over their future brother.

If Ace’s reaction when Whitebeard made the offer was anything to go by, then convincing him to join the crew would prove to be hard. The young pirate sure had a temper.

Looking at him now, though, fast asleep and his face in a relaxed expression, free from the frowns and angry faces of both the wanted posters and last night, Ace looked young, really young, and Marco wondered how old he was. Eighteen had been his guess until last night, but now he was inclined to believe sixteen would be more accurate.

It was impressive how someone so young could have such strength.

 

* * *

 

 

Thatch sighed, glad of being a patient man, and looked over the side of the ship.

“You should grab onto the rope and come up, you know.”

“FUCK OFF!” Was the yell that answered him, not for the first time.

It had been four days already since Ace woke up and, completely ignoring the doctor’s advice and later orders that he had to rest, the brat had stalked off the infirmary and disappeared somewhere into the ship, royally pissed off at Thatch’s introduction and statement that they would be crewmates now as soon as Ace woke up. Not even an hour later, the kid reappeared and attempted to take Whitebeard’s head. He did so at least twice a day, his injuries getting worse each time much to both the doctor and nurses’ horror, and tonight there had been another attack. Just that Pops, half asleep as he was, hadn’t been so careful when he threw the brat away and Ace had fallen overboard.

That had been an hour ago and the stubborn brat still refused to grab onto the rope they had thrown down for him.

Next to Thatch, Marco’s brow twitched.

The first division commander might be an extremely patient man, but there were limits to his patience, and stupidity tended to destroy it very easily. It was a couple of hours after midnight and Marco had been on watch duty the day before, which meant the phoenix hadn’t had much sleep and he was too responsible to spend the whole morning asleep, as that usually resulted in some, in Thatch’s opinion, extremely amusing circumstances that usually ended when Marco found them and kicked the culprit across the deck. More often than not, said culprit was Thatch.

But, to resume, Marco was short on sleep and wouldn’t be able to sleep in the next day, which meant the man was in a bad mood and, Thatch was sure, he would have jumped into the ocean and dragged the brat up just to beat him around and throw him back into the water if he wasn’t a devil fruit user.

Thatch had tried to go into the water and catch Ace, but the brat was fast and finally the commander had been forced to give up.

“Get Namur.” Marco ordered and, looking at the man, Thatch really wouldn’t want to be in Ace’s shoes when the fishman brought him on board.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace glared up at the ceiling, extremely annoyed with his current predicament. First the damn old geezer had punched him straight into the ocean, then that stupid commander who insisted on act friendly had bothered him trying to offer him help to come up, then the fishman commander dragged him on board and the blond guy who looked like a pineapple, when Ace tried to get away from them, had kicked him so hard it reminded Ace of one of his grandfather’s punches.

Stating that by no means was Ace going on his own again and messing with his sleep, the blond man, Ace thought the others had called him Marco, dragged the younger pirate with him and, much to Ace’s mortification, had forced him to sleep on his bed, stating that this way Ace couldn’t get away and cause any trouble at night.

And, apart from fucking strong, the guy _regenerated himself from any wound_.

Eventually Ace tired from trying to escape, his captor having long since fallen asleep by then, and his mind wandered. Specifically, it went to the man behind him who now had his arms around Ace’s torso. Once his mind cooled down a little, it wasn’t hard to deduce what he had overlooked in his previous anger. This man was Marco the Phoenix. Seeing his success against Whitebeard, Ace doubted he would fare much better against the man’s first mate, and that pissed him off.

Ace didn’t like to admit defeat.

Anger flaring anew, Ace kicked with his booted foot, as he had refused to take his shoes off and the other had just shrugged, the man’s shin, eliciting a soft groan and the cool, unfortunately not unpleasant, sensation of the man’s healing flames coming to life.

The bastard didn’t even wake up.

 

* * *

 

Marco sighed, his eyes following the retreating form of Ace after the boy had been sent through two walls when his latest murder attempt, something involving an axe, failed miserably.

Not far from him, some crewmembers exchanged money while others complained to Pops about all the repairs they had to do to the ship because he wasn’t careful with his aim when he threw Ace somewhere.

Marco ignored them, instead pondering everything that had happened these past weeks. For starters, a week ago the assassination attempts had reduced from two per day to just one. Some people speculated that it was because the boy was finally starting to open to the idea of joining the crew, or at least losing his resolve to kill Whitebeard, but Marco wasn’t so sure.

The kid looked worse at every passing day. Three days after the first night Marco dragged him to sleep with him, the boy became really hard to find at night but, as in the following days he made no further attempt at a nighttime assassination, Marco let him be.

Now he wasn’t sure that had been a good idea.

Ace looked tired, a look at his face, even if short glimpses was the best Marco could get as the boy spent most of the time in hiding, was enough to tell he wasn’t getting enough sleep. And then there was the fact that he looked thinner than when he came on board.

It was no surprise that the younger pirate didn’t appear by the mess hall to eat with the crew, even though he had been offered in numerous occasions to join them, but there had been reports of food going missing from the kitchens, more than enough to feed a person, according to the cooks. Now, as Ace had taken some seconds to stand up again after Whitebeard’s punch, Marco had been able to have a good look at him and noticed how thin he was. Obviously, the food he stole wasn’t enough for him.

Deciding this couldn’t go on, as it was unacceptable to let their new reluctant crewmember kill himself, Marco turned around and headed for the kitchens.

It was close to lunch time, and so there was a lot of cooked food already. Marco took a basket and stuffed it with a little of everything, ignoring the questioning looks he received, before leaving again and concentrating on sensing where the elusive moody brat could have gone to.

He found Ace in a mostly deserted part of deck, leaning against the railing and seemingly staring distractedly off into the ocean. But he wasn’t distracted, as his back tensed up as soon as Marco approached, and the younger pirate turned around to glower at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you want?” He snapped, and Marco guessed he was still angry at him for what happened the first few nights. Marco couldn’t say he was sorry about it, it had not only ensured calm nights since then, but it had been nice to have a warm body in his arms.

Marco lifted the basket.

“I brought food.”

Ace’s glower intensified.

“I don’t need it.” He snapped, and Marco raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” He asked skeptically, and before Ace could react he moved right in front of him and placed a finger between two of his slightly protruding ribs. “I think you do.”

Startled, Ace backed away and hit the railing behind him, aiming a punch at Marco that the man avoided because he had been expecting it.

“What the fuck?!” The freckled pirate yelled.

“Now, are you going to eat here or do I have to drag you to lunch with everyone else?” He said, offering him the basket.

Ace glared, but Marco was sure of what his answer would be. He had been doing his best to avoid the crew despite the others’ efforts to befriend him, going so far as to attack them until no one but the commanders and captain dared to approach him and, sure enough, soon he sighed and took the proffered basket.

Plopping down on the floor, Ace gave him a murderous look when Marco sat next to him, but the older man just raised both hands in a pacifying gesture.

“I’m just making sure you eat it.” He explained, but judging by the loud grumble of the boy’s stomach it wouldn’t be necessary. Either way, Marco didn’t go away, he wanted to use the chance to study him some more and, with some luck, reach out to him.

Seeing the speed at which Ace started to inhale the food, the idea of conversation fled Marco’s mind.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s a sad kid, isn’t he?”

Marco turned to look at Thatch at that statement. It was the blond’s turn for night watch and Thatch had decided to come with him. It was fine by Marco, as watch duty was boring, though if he had been alone he would have done it flying.

“Ace?”

“Yeah. He’s always alone and in a bad mood, and growls at anyone who approaches him. Makes me want to go and drag him partying or something to see if he was born frowning or can actually smile.”

Marco smiled at Thatch’s comment. He could say Ace hadn’t been born with that frown on his face, but wasn’t stupid enough to voice it out loud and risk Thatch’s teasing. Instead, he settled for saying something different.

“He’d probably try to bite your head off. He’s stubborn.”

They laughed, but Marco knew Thatch was worried about the boy. He wasn’t the only one. It had been almost two months since Ace first arrived on the ship and, despite the hope of some people when he passed from two daily assassination attempts to one, he didn’t seem to be willing to change his mind.

He still tried to kill Whitebeard every day and kept mostly to himself, stealing food from the kitchens and sleeping at random secluded corners of the ship. They tried to talk to the boy and, if he was in one of his better moods, he graced them with a snarl, an insult or a snappy answer. Sometimes Marco was inclined to believe Ace had never been taught what social interaction was about.

A loud crash drew their attention and they looked down in time to see Ace go through what must have been his second wall of the flight before banging against the next one, no further crash signaling he had stopped there.

“Wow, he’s tried a night attack, and here I thought you’d dissuaded him.” Thatch whistled, amused. Marco frowned.

“Go to bed, Thatch.”

“What?” His friend asked, giving him a confused look.

“Go to bed, I just got myself new company.”

Not waiting for an answer, Marco jumped down from the crow’s nest and approached the Ace-shaped hole the boy had just created, hearing Thatch coming down as well as he entered through it.

There, sitting on the floor and rubbing his impossibly thick head was Ace, who glared up at him as soon as Marco entered the hallway he was now in.

“Get up, you’re coming with me.”

“Get lost,” Ace snapped, standing up but trying to go down the hallway.

Marco grabbed him by the arm, Ace glared at him, Marco ignored the look and started to drag him to the deck, Ace struggled and, when that didn’t work, settled for attacking him, aiming a kick at Marco’s chest.

Luckily, the brat’s movements were sluggish and, a punch and kick later, Marco managed to throw him over his shoulder, immobilizing Ace’s legs with an arm and ignoring the strong punches against his back. Climbing back up to the crow’s nest with only one arm and unable to transform his arms into wings lest Ace tried to escape again proved to be a challenge, but Marco managed and, once up there, addressed the boy.

“I’m going to put you down, if you try to escape or attack me I’ll beat you into the ground, got that?” There was silence, though Ace’s punches stopped. “Well?”

“Yes.” Came Ace’s reluctant answer.

“Will you behave?”

“Yeah.” This answer sounded even more reluctant, reminding Marco the boy was just a teenager despite his monstrous strength. That probably explained part of his constant bad mood.

Smiling softly, Marco put Ace down and released his legs. He almost laughed when Ace moved as far from him as the small space allowed and sat on the floor, arms crossed over his chest and eyes averted to the side.

Marco received another murderous glare when he moved to sit next to Ace.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace stared ahead, determined to stay silent and ignore the man next to him. Marco had been the one to bring him here against his will, after all, and if he wanted something he would have to say it. Ace wasn’t going to make things easy for him.

The man didn’t take long to speak.

“So, what’s your problem?” Ace looked at him, feeling a mix between annoyance and confusion, and didn’t answer. “I thought we had established that you wouldn’t try anything stupid at night, but here you are now. And then there’s your insistence on getting your ass kicked every day.”

“I said I’m going to kill that old man.” Ace said, refusing to think Marco was the only one he was trying to convince with those words. He didn’t care how many times the old man had beat him without even stopping what he was doing. Ace had to beat him, that had been his purpose even before he entered the New World. To defeat the strongest man in the world and prove he wasn’t like his useless father. He wasn’t like him, and so he shouldn’t have to carry the man’s sins.

“For what reason?” Marco asked again. Ace kept his mouth shut, resolute not to tell him anything. The man looked at him, obviously waiting for an answer and, when it didn’t come, spoke again. “It’s more common than you’d think for strong pirates to try to take on Pops once they arrive at the New World, but they always give up after one or two beatings. Yet, here you are, how knows how many attempts later and still trying.”

Marco’s voice had been calm as he spoke, slightly curious at some point, but Ace was surprised when there was nothing in it indicating he found amusing his patheric failures. He drew his knees up and draped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on the bent knees.

“I’m not going to tell you, alright? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Really?” Now the man sounded slightly incredulous. “You’re trying to kill _my father_ but it’s got nothing to do with me?”

Ace glared ahead, annoyed at hearing the way this stupid crew addressed this man.

“He’s your biological father or something?” He snapped, hoping the other pirate would shut up. He didn’t.

“No.”

“Then why do you call him that? It’s annoying.” Ace practically growled, having grown tired of the absurd farce these pirates insisted on put up acting as a family.

“Because he calls us sons.”

“That’s stupid.” Ace muttered.

“Why? Do you think a family can only be related by blood?”

Ace felt a pang in his heart, the wound that never had completely healed reminding him of it when his brain conjured an involuntary memory of Sabo, the image of his brother’s grinning face with his missing tooth and shining eyes full of hope for a better future as bright as it had ever been in Ace’s mind.

“No, but you guys all act as a huge family when you’re so many people it’s impossible you know all of the others well enough for that.”

Marco didn’t answer immediately and for a moment Ace thought he had managed to shut the irritating man up. He should have known better.

“You’re not a very trusting person, are you?”

“Why should I be?” He snapped. That should have been obvious since day one, but here was this idiot just stating it. Ace didn’t trust people, so what? It wasn’t as if the world had given him much reason to trust. He ignored the small part of his brain saying that the pirates not only hadn’t treated him bad but could have killed him at any moment.

“Is that why you refuse to join the crew?”

“No, I just don’t want to join you, is it so hard to understand?! And what’s with you lot and wanting me to join your crew, anyway? You don’t know me. Hell, I’m trying to kill your captain, shouldn’t you want me out of here?”

To his utter surprise and disconcert, Marco laughed. Here he was, exposing all his reasons as to why it was a bad idea to keep him on board, hoping he could finally make them see it would be best to just let him go and here was this guy just _laughing_ at them.

Ace held back the urge to raise his head and glare, aware that Marco seemed immune the looks and reluctantly admitting his head might hurt due to his last trip through the air.

“Pops likes you, that’s why he offered. And we like you too, that’s why we insist.” The man said once he had got his laughter under control.

This time Ace did raise his head and turn it to look at Marco, blinking at the man’s words and making sure he had heard him correctly. The man was smiling, too, a lazy gesture that went well with his half-lidded eyes.

“Do you guys accept anyone in your crew or what?” Ace just couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. There people actually wanted in the crew someone who basically attacked them, physical or verbally, every time they approached him. Marco nodded. “Why?”

“Because we’re all outcasts. The world hates us, we would be hypocrites to turn our backs on anyone who is in the same situation.”

Those words, spoken in a calm voice full of conviction, snapped Ace out of whatever talkative mood had possessed him, a mood he would blame on the hit he had taken to the head.

“I doubt you’d accept _anyone_.”

He never got to hear Marco’s answer, as then someone called for the commander from below. It was his replacement, Marco’s watch was over. Ace was disconcerted when, after standing up, the man held a hand out to him.

“Come, let’s go to bed.”

“Huh?” Ace uttered coherently, confused.

Marco’s eyebrows went higher into his forehead.

“You don’t expect me to leave you alone after that stunt earlier, right? Come or I’ll drag you.”

Remembering how Marco had really dragged him to the cabin those three days Ace had to sleep with him, he reluctantly took the offered hand.

Ace had already resolved not to fall into more attempts at conversation from the man.

 

* * *

 

 

When Ace woke up, he snuggled into the mattress, his body almost singing at the wonder of finally sleeping on a bed instead of the hard floorboards.

He froze as soon as he remembered why he had been sleeping on the floor in the first place and why he was now on a bed. At that same moment he became aware of the arm draped around his waist and, his face heating considerably, he also noticed something warm against his ass. Trying to get out of the bed as fast and silently as possible, he moved to find the best way to push the arm off of him and it was then he became aware of a third thing. The man behind him wasn’t the only one with something hard.

Now he really had to get out of there. And fast.

The arm around him moved, luckily just holding him tighter and not going down, and Ace realized the man’s breathing wasn’t even enough for sleep.

“You awake?” He asked, and didn’t wait for an answer. “Let me go, I want to go.”

“Why?” Marco asked, not moving. He didn’t sound drowsy, which meant he probably had been awake for a while. Ace mentally shot the part of his brain that wondered what had the man been doing until Ace woke up.

“It’s morning, I haven’t tried to kill anyone. Your job’s done, now let go.” He ground out through gritted teeth. His erection should have softened with the situation and his anger, but no, the damn thing was still there, posing a challenge as to how Ace would manage to stand up, put his boots on and leave without the other man noticing.

“Are you sure?” Marco asked, and Ace’s eyes opened like saucers when he grabbed him through his pants.

“F-Fuuck…”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with it?” Marco asked against his neck, so close Ace could feel the smirk on the man’s lips on his skin. Then the blond kissed his neck. Ace bit his lower lip, forcing himself to stay in control when that hand moved again. “I could help you, you know.”

“No.” Ace answered, too flustered to congratulate himself for how steady his voice came out.

“Pity.” And, just like that, Marco let go of him.

It took a couple of confused moments for Ace to comprehend the man had just agreed to his request without complaint. He hadn’t insisted, hadn’t tried to convince him by arousing him further. He had just let go of him. Ace hadn’t been expecting that.

The younger pirate stood up from the bed, movements slightly awkward, and went to retrieve his boots, that he had kicked out the night before because, as he had learnt the first night he spent in this cabin, sleeping on a bed with boots on wasn’t worth it just to show one’s annoyance with the situation.

Once he had them, he sat on the floor to put them on.

“Ace.”

“Yeah?” He asked, not turning away from his task.

“If you change your mind, come find me.”

The boy turned so fast that he almost hurt his neck. Marco was now sitting on the bed and looking at him. The man had taken his shirt off the night before and, sitting there with the sheet fallen around his waist, giving the impression that the man was completely naked beneath it, Ace would have really liked to go back to the bed and said he had changed his mind. But he didn’t, because Marco wasn’t a one night stand he wouldn’t see ever again, he was a man that, for now, Ace was forced to live with.

So, instead, he stood up trying to appear indifferent to both the man and his obvious arousal and said:

“I won’t need it.”

He hadn’t paid attention to Marco pushing the sheet aside as he answered, but he almost jumped out of his skin when, before he had time to turn to leave, Marco pulled his pants open.

Ace’s blush came back with a vengeance at what he saw.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Marco directed a deadpan look his way.

“That you don’t want help doesn’t mean I’m not going to take care of this.”

And Ace most definitely did not flee the room when Marco wrapped his hand around his generous length.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been hard but, around noon, Ace had been able to find a secluded place where he hadn’t hidden before. After his conversation last night with Marco, Ace had finally admitted to himself that he needed to think.

His plan at first had been easy: kill Whitebeard and then try to get the fuck away from the crew before anyone killed him. If he didn’t manage to escape, then go down fighting. It was supposed to be easy, the worst that could have happened was that Whitebeard killed him if Ace failed.

But nothing seemed to be easy with this crew.

He had lost, but instead of killing him, Whitebeard had decided he wanted him as a ‘son’ and brought him onboard. All of Ace’s attempts to kill the man had failed miserably, as he hadn’t been able to even injure the man, and the crew, that Ace had expected to be wary of him and to want him out of their ship, had instead accepted him as one of theirs when Ace himself didn’t want to be.

That meant he was invited to join into games or parties every time he was spotted, they always tried to help him out of the water when he fell overboard after one of his failed attempts, people greeted him as if he was one more of their crew instead of an enemy and they insisted on healing his wounds. Ace didn’t allow it, of course, which usually resulted in two or three commanders holding him down while the doctor or a nurse tended to his numerous injuries.

There were also more subtle things that, though he noticed, Ace had refused to acknowledge before. Like the kitchen door. The pirates must have noticed the disappearing food, especially after Marco came with that basket and Ace decided it would be better to just steal more food and save himself what at the moment he thought was pity, but the door was never closed, nor was there anyone watching the place. It was just open for Ace to take as much food as he wanted.

Ace wasn’t sure when exactly it had been, but somewhere between snarled comments and snappy answers he had accepted on a subconscious level that he did like these people. They were friendly, carefree and, though they teased a lot and liked fights, weren’t cruel. Oh, Ace was sure they could be fearsome enemies if one of theirs was in danger, but the thing was that they, despite his best efforts, considered _Ace_ one of theirs.

And, as much as he would like to, he couldn’t say he really minded.

But that couldn’t be.

If it was any other crew, Ace would have considered giving in, apologize for the trouble he had caused and accept the offer to join them. But not this crew, not the Whitebeard Pirates. He couldn’t.

And so, Ace spent the rest of the day pondering the best way to get out of the ship.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace leaned against the railing of one of the upper deck, looking down at the impressive party going below that promised a lot of hungover and cranky pirates the next morning.

Days ago, had Ace gotten out of his current hideout and stumbled upon a party that seemed to encompass the whole crew, he would have gone back into hiding complaining about stupid pirates, but now he was curious to see what a party on the Moby Dick was like.

Apparently, it entailed more alcohol than Ace had thought was on board, lots of embarrassing games, people passed out and being drawn on or subjected to other pranks they wouldn’t appreciate when they woke up and, for some reason, disappearing clothes. That and lots of laughter, of course.

Ace was pulled out of his observations by someone coming to stand next to him, and he turned to see Marco there, two big tankards in hand. He had a soft smirk on his face, and looked far sober than any of the idiots below.

“I’m surprised you’re here instead of sulking in some dark corner.” The older pirate said as a greeting, and Ace’s almost default response, a glare, was triggered. The man was as unaffected by it as always.

“Maybe I’m tired of corners.” Ace half-snapped, though he wasn’t really angry or annoyed. After thinking over these past months, he had to admit the comment was a more than accurate description of his lifestyle on the Moby Dick.

Marco smiled and offered him one of the tankards. Ace accepted it, prompting the smile to grow slightly, and the man moved to lean on the railing next to him. They stayed in silence, just looking down at the party. Marco chuckled and, following his line of sight, Ace saw a bunch of plastered men who apparently had formed what must be teams and were trying to steal the clothes from one another. Ace had to smile.

“What are you guys celebrating?” Ace finally asked, breaking their silence.

“Haruta’s birthday.”

Ace had learned that Haruta was one of the commanders, one of the people who volunteered to hold him down for the doctor more often. Ace scanned the area below until he spotted said commander laughing loudly in a group of pirates.

It seemed it was a good birthday.

“When’s your birthday?” Marco asked, bringing his attention back to the man.

“Oh, the first of January. Why?”

Marco clicked his tongue, looking annoyed for a moment.

“So it was last month?” Ace nodded and, much to his surprise, the blond man placed a hand on his cheek and leaned to kiss the corner of his lips. Ace froze. “Sorry we didn’t celebrate, but I guess you were trying to get Pops’ head as a present, mh?”

Ace averted his eyes, for some reason half convinced he had blushed. Yes, he could admit his assassination attempts had gone a little too far, but he refused to be embarrassed by them. It was bad enough that these pirates took them as a source for their jokes.

“How old are you, then?” Marco asked, and Ace was glad he had dropped the other topic.

“Sixteen.”

He looked at the man again, surprised, when Marco chuckled, and tilted his head in confusion.

“You know, if I was a decent person I’d be ashamed for wanting to take someone so young into my bed.” The pirate explained, grinning.

Ace felt proud that he barely blushed. He might have sexual experience, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable talking about sex. It wasn’t a topic he was used to, and for some reason he couldn’t understand it embarrassed him.

“I’ve been in your bed already.” He pointed out. Marco’s grin grew slightly.

“You know what I mean.”

Yes, Ace did and, he thought, maybe he could get that one night stand with Marco before leaving the ship. Just to sate his curiosity and recent interest in the man, of course.

 

* * *

 

 

After some internal debate, Ace had figured it would be best to catch the man in a good mood, and that’s why, when he saw the captain leave the party, he waited around half an hour before slipping away from Marco and heading to the man’s room. Opening the door silently and getting in was easy, though, if he had to go by his previous experiences there, the man already know he was there.

Sure enough, when Ace just stood by the door without moving an inch, Whitebeard spoke.

“Well, this is new. Are you trying to glare me to death or something?”

“Tried that already, but it didn’t work.” The huge man laughed loudly and, when he quieted down, Ace said: “I need to talk to you.”

Whitebeard sat up on the bed, apparently picking up on Ace’s serious tone of voice as he didn’t comment on the oddity of the request.

It was the first time Ace bothered to try to talk to the man, his interactions with him so far consisting of murder attacks and sometimes insults when he failed.

“Listen, I’m sorry about this whole killing you thing, alright? I just thought I could prove something with it, but I was wrong there. Not that I can kill you anyway, but still.” He started, speaking faster than he had intended and trying to ignore the fact that he was rambling a little. “I know you want me to join the crew, but I really can’t stay. It’s got nothing to do with wanting you dead or not, I swear, it’s just I really, honestly, can’t stay here, so I was wondering if you could just let me stay in whatever island the ship stops next. If it’s part of your territory I swear I won’t do anything, just go on my way.” Ace took a deep breath after saying all that without a pause and waited in the tense silence that followed.

“The reason you think you can’t stay is the same why you wanted to kill me?” The captain finally asked.

Ace cursed mentally. He had really hoped, as improbable as it was, that the man would just let him leave without questions. He really didn’t want to answer that, worried about the reaction to his words, but he had assumed hours ago he most likely would have to explain.

Sighing, Ace nodded.

“What is it, son?” Whitebeard asked again when Ace hadn’t still managed to put the words together.

A pang struck Ace’s chest at that word. Son. In some deep level, one he refused to acknowledge since he became old enough to understand why the world would hate him if it became known he existed, Ace had always wondered what it would feel like to be called that by someone whose guts he didn’t hate. In that precise moment, that word hurt.

“Don’t call me that.” He mumbled, apparently loud enough for Whitebeard to hear.

“Why not?”

“You’ll regret it when you hear me out.” Ace said, shaking his head. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just get it over with. “My full name is Portgas D. Ace, though that was my mother’s surname. My birth name was Gol D. Ace.”

There, he had said it. Ace knew Whitebeard had been Roger’s enemy long before the government decided to change the Pirate King’s name for some reason, and had no doubt the man would recognize the name. He looked down at the floorboards, not wanting to see in the man’s eyes the scorn and disgust he had seen so many times as a child at the mere mention of the possibility of Roger having a son. Whitebeard had always looked at him fondly, despite Ace’s best efforts to not only kill him, but to be as rude and annoying as possible with the man. Now that was over.

For the last few months he had thought he wanted Whitebeard to act like a proper enemy and hate or despise him. Now that it would happen, the idea didn’t sit well with him.

Whitebeard laughed. Ace raised his head, completely disconcerted, staring up at him. He wanted to ask what he was laughing about, but the words refused to come out of his mouth. It didn’t take long for the man to get his laugher under control and look down at Ace. The boy was taken aback by his expression. The legendary pirate was amused, sure, but there was no scorn or disgust on his face, the same fondness from before still present there.

“So that’s why you wanted me dead? To prove you could do something Roger couldn’t?” Ace nodded. The man laughed again.

“You’re not mad?”

“Roger and I may have been enemies, Ace, but we didn’t hate each other. He was a decent guy.”

Ace’s eyes opened in surprise, Rayleigh’s words from back at Sabaody resounding back in his head. ‘ _Maybe you should ask about him to those who knew him instead of forming an opinion based on what people who never met Roger think_.’

“But-“

Whitebeard shook his head, cutting him off.

“Even if I did hate Roger, that wouldn’t change anything. Everybody is a child of the ocean, it doesn’t matter who your parents are. No one would look down on you for it here, but, if you really want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“I…” Ace closed his mouth before saying anything, at a loss of words.

“Why don’t you give it some thought? There’s no hurry, right?”

Ace nodded and turned around, still confused. He muttered a soft ‘good night’, and felt a strange warmth when he received an answer. Opening the door and closing it behind himself once he was out, he was so deep in thought he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone in the hallway until he looked up to see in what direction he would search for a place to stay the night.

There, leaning against the wall opposite the door, barely two or three feet to the right, was Marco, arms crossed and a serious expression on his face.

Ace tensed, unsure of how to react. Had the man overheard everything? He decided it would be best to act oblivious.

“What are you doing here?”

“When you left the party I thought you might try something stupid again, so I followed you.” Marco was still serious and, taking a step forward more to reassure himself he wasn’t afraid than because he wanted to stand closer to the man, Ace guessed the answer to his unasked question.

“You heard.” He stated, not sure what else he could say, or how Marco would react.

“I did.”

Another uncomfortable silence, just like the ones inside Whitebeard’s cabin, stretched between them until Ace finally broke it.

“I guess you’re not so eager to get me in your bed now.”

Marco pushed away from the wall and stood in front of Ace, two feet separating them.

“Is that what you think? That everybody will be disgusted when they discover who you are?”

Ace shrugged, his stomach clenching at the seriousness in Marco’s voice, unable to discern what the man was thinking.

“Isn’t it true?”

In the blink of an eye Marco was right before him, lips pressed against Ace’s and hands cupping the sides of his face, fingertips tangling into Ace’s dark locks. It was a forceful gesture but, at the same time, not a violent kiss. A much more convincing answer to Ace than any words could probably have been.

It didn’t last long, and when Marco pulled away he rested his forehead against Ace’s.

“I don’t care. You could be the son of a sea monster and I wouldn’t give a fuck. You’re a good guy, Ace, and that’s what matters.” Ace bit his lower lip, again at a loss about what to say. Marco saved him from having to answer when he grinned and said: “Though this explains why you’re so stubborn.”

Growling, Ace pushed the man away and crossed his arms, refusing to admit he might be embarrassed by the comment.

“What will you do?” Marco asked after a short pause.

Ace looked down at the ground and mulled over the question before answering.

“I don’t know. You and the old man… You guys may be fine with me being here, but I doubt everybody will.”

He looked up when Marco placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do _you_ want to join the crew?”

Ace looked away again, unsure of how to answer.

“I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought.” He might have realized he liked the crew, but, as he hadn’t thought he would really have a chance to stay with them once he spoke with Whitebeard, Ace hadn’t considered that possibility.

“Think it over. And don’t worry about what others will do. You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to but, if you do, don’t think everybody will turn their backs on you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Portgas D. Ace had to bite the inner part of his cheek to hold back a laugh when he saw the incredulous expressions taking over the faces of the people who were there as soon as they noticed he had entered the mess hall.

Acting as if he was unaware of the stares following him, the pirates breaking into fast whispers as soon as he had passed them, Ace went to the bar, grabbed the biggest tray he could find available and covered it in as many empty plates as he could fit into the surface. Then he proceeded to load them with as much food as it was possible for them to carry. With the practiced ease of someone who has done it hundreds of times, Ace placed on top of the food a second line of plates in precarious balance and filled these plates as well. During all this he had to resist the urge to laugh as in some faces the incredulity grew even further while others morphed into horrified fascination. Some isolated cases even assumed various shades of unhealthy-looking green colors. He spied many people placing a hand over their bellies with pained expressions on their faces.

The incredulity around him only grew further when Ace headed resolutely to the table where the captain was sitting.

Marco stood up and took the tray from him to place it on the table, making it considerably easier for Ace to sit down.

“That’s a lot of food.” The man commented as he sat down again.

“I’m hungry.” Ace explained, plopping down in the bench. He wasn’t going to enter into detail about how he still hadn’t been eating enough, despite Marco’s so clear message what seemed to be an eternity ago. He hadn’t thought the cooks would appreciate that food for twenty people disappeared three or four times a day.

“Morning, brat.” Whitebeard greeted him, amusement plain in his voice as he looked around at his sons.

“Morning, old man.”

And, just like that, the silence that had fallen as Ace’s tray filled with food, was broken and hundreds of voices rose in what was the most impressive example of gossip Ace had ever witnessed.

 

* * *

 

 

‘No, I haven’t joined the crew.’

‘No, I haven’t _softened_ , say that again and I’ll punch you through a wall.’

Those were some of the responses Ace had given to the barrage of questions thrown his way once the crew got past the shock of seeing him enter the mess hall for breakfast.

Despite his threats, it didn’t take long for the pirates to realize Ace was much less inclined to attack them than mere days ago, and then they started to fight over him and to drag him around the ship.

Ace had been given a delayed tour of the Moby Dick, lots of advice about living with the crew and a list of things he should avoid doing. He had also been buried in almost constant questions.

Currently, Ace was sitting on a crate watching a dozen men get ridiculously wasted while he still nursed his first drink. The others had just thought he still didn’t feel comfortable enough to get drunk with them and had left things at that, taking it as progress that he was even willing to drink with them at all. Ace had let them believe that. They weren’t exactly wrong, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable lowering his guard around so many people he didn’t know, but what he refused to let them know was that he didn’t have practice drinking, had barely no resistance to alcohol and refused to look like an idiot.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace turned around in what had been his improvised bed since those conversations with Whitebeard and later with Marco; a mountain of blankets on the floor of a storeroom serving as both mattress and covers. The first night after they talked, Marco had offered him to sleep at his cabin, just sleep if he didn’t want anything else, but Ace had refused, saying he needed to think everything over. Not even an hour later, Marco had tracked him down and shoved the pile of blankets into his arms.

And now here he was, at what was probably not long before dawn, turning in his makeshift bed, his mind swirling with thoughts.

This past week had been strange, to say the least. The crew had accepted him with open arms, acting as if he hadn’t spent the last few months trying to kill their captain. They had included him in their conversations, their games and, in the commanders’ case, even their training sessions. They explained the reasons behind a joke when Ace didn’t know them, treated him as if he was one of them and were much more prone to non-violent physical contact than Ace had ever been exposed to.

It was disconcerting to feel so welcome somewhere and, Ace had realized with surprise, he liked it.

He couldn’t imagine being without it now that he had experienced the feeling.

Sitting up resolutely, Ace put on his discarded boots, stood and gathered all the blankets in his arms.

Up until this point, he hadn’t realized he knew this ship so well that he could move through it in almost total darkness and still reach his intended destination.

Maneuvering the blankets to hold them all with only one arm, he raised the now freed hand and knocked on the door before him.

He heard movement inside and a faint light came out from under the door, the door that was soon opened by a bleary eyed, naked Marco. Ace felt himself blush and swallowed hard.

“Ace?” The man asked.

“Did I wake you?” The younger pirate asked, now feeling guilty for not having thought of how late, or early, it was. This could probably have waited a few more hours.

“Yeah. What’s it?”

Ace swallowed again, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Marco’s face despite his nervousness. Looking down now would mean getting a nice, though completely inconvenient at the moment, view that wouldn’t help his nervousness at all. Reminding himself he couldn’t change what was already done, he showed the man the blankets.

“I don’t need these anymore.”

Marco stared confusedly at them for a moment. Then, faster than his half-asleep state should have allowed, he grabbed Ace by his free arm, pulled him inside and the blankets fell to the cabin’s room as Ace found himself being kissed again, and he kissed back.

The door closed noisily, ignored by both of them, too busy as they were practically devouring each other with mouth, tongue and teeth. Ace wound his arms around Marco’s neck, pressing closer against the man and feeling his more than obvious reaction.

Marco’s hands came around his waist and dove right into his pants, Ace’s not too tight belt allowing it easily. Ace wriggled his ass against those hands, wondering why he had to be dressed and couldn’t be conveniently naked like Marco. Clothes were such a nuisance sometimes. Luckily, his pants were soon dealt with, and Ace kicked them aside along with the boots he managed to blindly take out, pressing again against Marco and moaning into his mouth when their erections touched. There was a nice advantage about being with someone not too much taller than him, he just had to stand on his tiptoes and he could rub against the man.

In that moment, Ace realized how much he had needed this. It had been too long since the last time he had sex, before he arrived on the Moby Dick, and he hadn’t even masturbated properly for fear of being caught.

He had to lower his arms to let Marco pull his shirt down, and with that Ace was naked at last. He frowned when Marco pulled back from the kiss and tried to capture his lips again, but the man stopped him placing his hands on Ace’s shoulders, a soft smile on his lips.

“Are you joining the crew, then?”

Ace nodded vigorously, probably with more enthusiasm that he would have used in any other circumstance.

“Yeah. You guys aren’t too bad.”

Marco’s smile grew in amusement at Ace’s choice of words, and his hands went down Ace’s back and to his ass once more.

“I guess I’ll have to welcome you to the family then.”

Right, Ace reminded himself. These people were more than a crew, they were a family, with a father and lots of brothers and sisters. He chuckled.

“That sounds so wrong in this situation.”

“We’re pirates, we’re supposed to be immoral, deviants and all that.” The man said with a grin, one hand massaging Ace’s cheek as the other moved, and Ace felt a finger brushing over his entrance. He moved to get more contact, but the finger just retreated. He growled at the man.

“You aren’t going to tease me, are you?” He asked. He didn’t have the patience for that right now, between his forced celibacy and the stress of the past months.

“I’d love to, but I want to fuck you too much for that. Later.”

Ace nodded and, deciding they could leave the talk for later, kissed Marco again, pushing the man backwards until they reached the bed. As soon as they were there, the older man switched their positions, placing himself on top of Ace.

Marco leaned over to the nightstand and pulled out a jar of lube. He opened it and, without looking at what he was doing, began to cover three of his fingers with it. All the while his eyes roamed over Ace’s body. The younger pirate felt exposed and, much to his embarrassment, somewhat self-conscious. None of his previous bed partners had looked at him like that. They had admired his body, of course, but Marco was practically devouring him with his eyes, and he was sure the only reason the man’s hands weren’t all over him was because they were occupied with the lube. Ace briefly wondered if this was how food felt like when he stared at it. Or what it would feel if it had the capacity.

Fuck, he was nervous. He really needed to stop thinking stupid shit.

Looking up from Marco’s hands, Ace’s eyes landed on the man’s neck, and he thought he really would like to leave a mark there, just so nobody would be so stupid to try anything with him. Before he could move, however, Marco spoke.

“Tell me, Ace, are you a virgin?”

Ace smirked. Was that what Marco expected? That he was too young to have any experience?

“No.” He answered, and felt oddly pleased at seeing Marco’s frown. “Jealous?”

Marco leaned over him, face very close to Ace’s, his hand going down his body, as the boy could feel the lubed fingertips brushing slightly over his stomach.

“And if I am?”

“That’s too bad for you. Though there’s some stuff I haven’t done with anybody before.” He answered, remembering that he had never felt comfortable at the prospect of sucking someone off. Men had done it to him, but Ace had never wanted to return the favor. With Marco, perhaps…

“Oh? Like what?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.” Ace said, grinning, and gasped when a finger that hadn’t been there suddenly breached his asshole. “Fuck!”

Marco raised an eyebrow, a curious look in his eyes. He moved the finger, that was tighter than Ace remembered it had been the last time inside of him.

“You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?” The man asked, sounding oddly pleased with that fact. Ace felt the urge to glare at him, despite their situation, and so he did. Marco wasn’t bothered by it, of course.

“How could I? You had me kidnapped here.”

Marco shrugged, apparently deciding not to argue the obvious point they both knew about how Ace could have gone in land with the rest of the crew, and a second finger joined the first.

“Better for me. I can pretend you’re a virgin now.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Ace growled, and Marco just moved the fingers, raising his eyebrows, moved the fingers some more and Ace moaned. Smiling as soon as he could. Many men he had been with hadn’t cared much about finding that spot that made Ace see stars, but Marco seemed to know what he was doing, and Ace was feeling more and more glad about his decision.

Marco’s other hand, that hadn’t been doing much, wrapped around his erection and moved over it, caressing, squeezing and generally pleasing Ace as the fingers continued to move. Ace was so distracted, moaning and by some miracle remembering to keep his voice low as other people in the hallway were asleep, that he didn’t pay any mind to the third finger that entered him.

He would have complained, however, when the fingers disappeared, except that he could see perfectly, once he opened the eyes he hadn’t even noticed he had closed, what came next. Marco’s hands were covering the man’s erection with lube, and Ace’s eyes were fixed on it. He squirmed and clenched his ass, feeling empty after the earlier attentions that hadn’t been enough. If Marco hadn’t been kneeling between his legs, he would have pressed them together as well.

Marco smiled down at him, and Ace was sure the man knew what he needed.

As Marco shifted his position, Ace saw him wipe his hands on the sheet, and then Ace’s legs were raised, one placed over Marco’s shoulder and the other held by the man’s elbow.

Ace didn’t flinch, he had never done it, and both men groaned at the feeling of being joined together.

Marco let go of his legs, and Ace moved them to wrap around the man so he wouldn’t have to hold them up. The blond leaned down, nose to nose with Ace, and a soft smirk stretched his lips.

“Need time to adjust?”

“Shut up and fuck me.” Ace growled, and Marco did just that.

The dark haired pirate leaned up to kiss Marco, deciding their mouths had been too long without one another, the gesture conveniently muffling the moans he wouldn’t be able to keep low much longer. His hips moved to meet Marco’s thrusts, attempting to find the man’s pace and follow it, which was complicated as both Marco and Ace were accelerating with no pattern, trying to get the most contact, the most pleasure out of the other, and trying to give the most pleasure as they did so.

Ace held Marco’s head with both hands, keeping him there, kissing him, as their movements became frantic, losing any pretence of rhythm they had followed, and one of Marco’s hands found his erection again, pumping it with an urgency that hadn’t been there before.

And Ace came. He almost smothered himself in Marco’s mouth, clenching the length inside him and covering their chests and half of the man’s arm in cum, his scream drowned as was another of which he was barely aware of, too lost into himself.

Marco was on top of him, panting heavily and still inside, and Ace couldn’t say he minded the weight on his chest as he himself tried to get his breathing under control. He felt Marco pulling out of him, and then an arm draped around his shoulders and moved him to rest on Marco’s chest as the man turned to lie on his back on the bed.

Ace grinned.

“That was good.”

“You’ll want a repeat, then?” Despite it being a question, Marco sounded as if he already knew the answer. Ace was in too much of a good mood to give even a cursory glare.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

He raised his head, thinking he would like a slow kiss after all the activity, and froze when he saw Marco’s face. All the blood left Ace’s face. There, on Marco’s cheeks, were deep gashes, some of them having even drawn a few drops of blood. Five red gashes on each side.

“Oh, fuck.” Marco just smiled at him and raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry!” He hurried to add, and then apologized again just in case. He had scratched Marco’s face. He had _scratched_ Marco’s face. This event took a comfortable place amongst the most embarrassing occurrences in his whole life. The blood rushed all back up to his face and Ace knew he must look like a tomato.

Marco chuckled, and blue flames surged over the damaged area, leaving behind skin that didn’t seem to have ever taken any damage.

“You know, if they were on my back I would’ve left them, but I don’t want to imagine the jokes about scratches on my face.” Marco commented, and Ace blushed deeper, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Sorry about that.” He muttered.

A hand in his hair, and Ace got the slow kiss he had intended to get earlier. Then Marco spoke.

“Are you tired?” Ace shook his head. He hadn’t slept much lately, but he didn’t feel especially tired. Marco grinned. “Great.”

And the man turned them around, leaving Ace under him once more.

“Again?” The younger pirate asked, incredulous. But he wouldn’t admit he hadn’t ever done it more than once at a time.

“I said I’d tease you later, remember?”

Ace frowned, and looked up at him challengingly.

“Not now.” He said and, grabbing Marco by the shoulder, reversed their positions. The blond just smiled, intrigued at the change. “I’m going to make you beg to let you fuck me.” Ace stated, and Marco chuckled.

“You can try.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were some essential things any marine discovered short after being transferred to headquarters. Most of these things, though not all of them, were related to vice admiral Monkey D. Garp, the hero of the marines who had fought the Pirate King back in the day.

Almost all of the new additions to headquarters had heard of the man, and they regarded him as a model figure, the ideal marine, just as the stories they had heard described him. Garp was indeed very strong and an incredibly decided individual, no one could argue that, but new marines soon discovered the stories they had heard about him had been embellished, probably to use as a way to attract recruits: the story of a boy of humble origins who rose to the top of the marines. It was the dream of many children. Sure, Garp was that, but he was much more, and that was something that had been carefully left out of the stories.

And that takes us back to one of the things the newbies learned: Garp was as strong as he was insane. Complete and absolutely out of his mind. And he liked to demonstrate both things in the way of random training sessions to whoever was unfortunate enough to be close to the man when the mood struck him. He also had a habit of appearing at the new classes and taking over from the instructors. In less than a minute, any awe the students might have felt for him was replaced by utterly visceral terror. Or unconsciousness, in some lucky cases.

Today, however, the experience had been far more horrifying than what was dubbed ‘Garp’s Welcome Beating’. Contrary to usual, the man hadn’t stopped his ‘lesson’ once his students were passed out or completely unable to move. This time it had taken Sengoku’s intervention to get the vice admiral away from the men, and then the three admirals had been forced to intervene as well to ensure the fight that broke out between the two veteran marines didn’t last for at least a week and destroy the entirety of Marineford.

The five high ranking officers had ended up in the infirmary, but Garp had stormed off before his wounds could be tended to.

No one, not even Sengoku, knew what had got the man in such a frighteningly bad mood, and no one suspected it had to do with something that had came in the fifth page of that morning’s paper.

And for Garp, not even that great work-out had served to improve his mood.

_That. Fucking. Brat._

After months of there not being a single article about Ace and absolutely no information on his activities, months that Garp had spent worrying that something had happened to him, now the brat had showed up again.

As a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. _The fucking brat._

Garp guessed, for a pirate crew, Ace could have done much worse, but it was a pirate crew all the same. It wasn’t enough that the brat had refused a position as a Shichibukai, and Garp might have both laughed his ass off and been extremely pissed at that childish answer of his, but now he was attracting even more attention to himself by joining Whitebeard.

And Garp couldn’t just show up on the Moby Dick and scold his grandson as he deserved. He guessed he could pass the visit off as one of his random decisions to go fight Whitebeard, decisions that Sengoku really hated, but he couldn’t trust those damned pirates not to spread out the truth about his relationship with Ace. Because there was no way in hell Newgate would let him beat the shit out of one of his precious sons without giving him a good reason for it first.

Maybe, if Ace didn’t do anything too outrageous, he would simply be regarded as one more of the Whitebeard Pirates and not attract the government’s attention, surrounded by all those other monsters in the crew.

Yeah, sure.

That bastard Newgate better take care of his beloved grandson until Garp found a way to visit without risking to alert Sengoku and the rest of the government to the identity of Ace’s father.

 

* * *

 

 

Ace fell with a resounding crash on top of some crates that had been lying on deck, effectively destroying them and scattering their contents around. Contents that luckily had been neither food nor booze.

Marco frowned from his sitting position on the steps, from where he had been watching the fight between a now grinning Thatch and a scowling Ace, who accepted the hand of his finally-friend to stand up.

The first division commander rose to his feet and approached the two men before they could start another round.

“Ace,” both men turned to look at him, “why didn’t you use haki?” Marco asked.

“Haki?”

“What?!” Thatch exclaimed, rubbing a sore spot of his upper left arm where Ace had kicked him. He turned to look at the boy. “You weren’t fighting seriously?” Was his visibly offended question.

“I was serious!” Ace answered, and then turned to Marco. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t used haki in any of your attacks.”

“What’s haki?” Ace asked, confused, and confusing Marco as well. Before he could answer, however, Thatch intervened.

“Oh, come on, Marco, you can’t scold the kid for not using haki if he doesn’t know how to use it.”

“But he does.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he used it against Pops all the time. You didn’t notice?”

“Nah, I was too busy laughing my ass off.” Thatch answered with a grin.

“Oi!” Ace yelled at Thatch, then directed his attention back to Marco. “Seriously, what are you talking about?”

Seeing Ace’s expression, it was obvious he had no idea what haki was. Maybe he had heard it called something else, Marco knew it received different names at certain places in the world. If he wasn’t mistake, Kenbunshoku Haki was referred to as ‘Mantra’ in some sky islands.

“That power you used against Pops to make your attacks stronger.”

“Oh, that’s called haki? I didn’t know.”

“So you have haki.” Thatch exclaimed accusingly, leaning so close to his face that he forced the boy to lean back. “Why didn’t you use it, then?”

Ace shrugged.

“I didn’t want to get mad.”

A confused silence followed those words. Marco chanced a glance at Thatch and, seeing his friend had no clue as to what Ace meant with that either, he looked back at Ace.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I need to be in a bad mood for it to work, and I didn’t want to get pissed at you guys, so…” Ace said, shrugging.

Another confused silence, this time soon broken by Thatch’s incredulous voice.

“Who the fuck told you that?”

Now it was Ace who was confused.

“What?”

“Ace,” Marco spoke, sighing, “you don’t need to be angry to use haki, it’s all a matter of learning to control it.”

“Really?” The younger pirate asked, both surprised and slightly hopeful. Marco imagined this was good news for him.

“Yes. Am I wrong in guessing you can also predict others’ movements?”

Ace hesitated, bit his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his head. Marco was curious at this clearly embarrassed reaction, but he had an explanation soon enough.

“Kinda. It happens sometimes, but I don’t know how to control it, so I don’t count on it while fighting. You can learn how to use that, too?” Ace looked so hopeful and excited that Marco had to hold back the impulse of kissing him. The conversation was far too serious to interrupt it with a quick fuck on deck.

“Yeah.”

“Any other surprises we need to know?” Thatch asked jokingly and, to both older men’s surprise, Ace nodded.

“Sometimes I can make people faint. I don’t know how that works, either.”

Marco had to admit he was impressed at that admission, but it was Thatch who put his feelings into words.

“Haoshoku Haki? Cool.” Whistled the fourth division commander. Passing his arm over Ace’s shoulder, he continued. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Pops help with that one. But, for the other two, Marco here will make a great teacher.”

And then, the traitor just left, leaving Marco with the job to teach Ace how to properly use his haki. Marco might have wanted to kick him but, to be honest, he preferred to be the one to teach Ace, so he limited his annoyance to stick Thatch with the worst watch shifts for the next month.

Ace looked up at him.

“I’m going to get my ass kicked, right?” He asked, a soft grin taking over his face. Marco grinned back.

“That’s part of the training.”

 

* * *

 

 

A new duty had joined the Moby Dick’s list of feared chores. Haki duty.

Part of it was easy enough, and even fun sometimes, it was the one Marco was in charge of, in which the ones doing it had to do what the commander told them to see if Ace could sense their movements or where they were. It was Marco himself who attacked Ace to practice the part where he had to predict attacks and use haki on his own, as the time they tried it with another crewmember the man had ended up at the infirmary, so the rest of the crew was saved from receiving Ace’s blows.

The feared part was the one Pops was in charge of, in which Ace had to try to make someone, or a group of people, to pass out. It wasn’t a nice experience, even for the ones who simply got a headache instead of fainting. The ones who didn’t faint or feel sick had been alarmed the first few times, as they hadn’t been told what would happen. Pops found the reactions amusing, apparently.

Ace himself felt very satisfied at his progress. His sort of practice with the skill up until then meant that, at least with Busoshoku Haki, he wouldn’t take nearly as long as it was usual to master the skill, even if he was being teased relentlessly for not having noticed it made him more resistant as well.

He was tired, though, and he had no problem admitting it. He fell asleep more often, there had even been this time he had fallen asleep during a fight with Marco and, had the man had worse reflexes, things could have developed into an accident. After the incident, though, Marco had consented to let him rest on Sundays, and had convinced Pops to do it as well.

Today was Sunday, and Ace was lying on bed well past his usual waking time, hugging the pillow and trying to convince his body to go back to sleep, even though he had slept almost twelve hours already, having got out of bed only to eat breakfast.

He heard the door open and close soon after, and opened his eyes to see Marco walking to the bed. The man sat on it, Ace’s back turned to him as that was the position he had been lying on, and a warm hand appeared on his thigh.

“Still trying to sleep?”

“It’s my day off. Leave me alone, monster.” He complained childishly, remembering the hard training session from yesterday. He could feel muscles aching that he hadn’t even know were in his body.

He felt and heard Marco shifting, and then both of the man’s hands were on him.

“Lie on your stomach.” The blond said, and Ace had no problem releasing the pillow and complying.

He sighed when Marco’s hands started to move over his sore back, slowly easing out the tensions of the week. He loved those hands, even if they were the cause of most of that tension.

Ace felt he could fall asleep again when those hands moved over his arms, but now he didn’t want to sleep anymore, and instead decided to bring up a subject that had been dancing in his mind for weeks now.

“Hey, Marco, where should I get my tattoo?”

“Where do you want it?” The hands were now on Ace’s sides, and a shiver ran down his body. The drowsiness was being chased away by a completely different feeling.

“I’m not sure. I want it somewhere people will see it, but not a place where it’ll be too easy for it to be cut. I know I can get a scar anytime, but I’d like for it to be as less likely as possible.”

Marco hummed behind him and the hands moved to his back again.

“What about here? You never turn your back on an enemy, and are too much of an idiot to flee.”

Ace was in too much of a good mood to be offended, so he just turned his head to the side and grinned up at Marco. The man leaned closer, lips brushing Ace’s earlobe as he continued.

“That way you would walk shirtless when the weather allowed.”

Ace’s grin widened.

“And you won’t be jealous of others looking at me?”

One of Marco’s hands trailed down to one of his bare buttocks, and grabbed it possessively.

“No, this way everybody will know what I have and they can’t.” Ace shivered at that. Marco smiled. “Want to learn something? You’ll like this, and there’s no fighting.”

Ace nodded, writhing to a position in which the mattress didn’t get in the way of his hardened length. Marco kissed him below the ear and moved away. Ace heard the drawer open, indicating the man was getting the lube, and the telltale sound of Marco opening his pants. He didn’t take them off, though.

Ace gasped in anticipation when he felt a finger pressing his opening, and gladly accepted it in. He grew annoyed, however, when the second and third fingers came in and Marco didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull them out.

“Marco,” he practically growled, “I’m not a virgin and I haven’t been months without sex, so hurry the fuck up.”

The man chuckled behind him.

“Don’t be so impatient.” Ace turned his head to glare at him, and Marco pulled the fingers out, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. The younger pirate groaned in frustration when the man stopped to coat his cock with a generous amount of lube, and buried his face in the mattress.

He moved to kneel, however, when Marco placed his hands on both sides of his hips and signaled for him to do so.

At least the man stopped teasing there and seated himself inside of Ace in a single, swift trust. Both men groaned. Then Marco was leaning over Ace once more, lips on his ear.

“Pay attention now.”

And Ace’s eyes widened when he felt Marco’s hard cock harden even more inside of him. He turned his head to look at a smugly grinning Marco.

“You’re-?”

The man thrust into him and, gasping, Ace decided to forget his questions and just enjoy himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“Second division commander?” Ace asked, placing the fork back on the plate. “Me?”

Excited nods answered him.

“Yeah. You know, the position’s been empty a long time. We all think you’d make a good commander.”

Ace tilted his head, looking at the men who had approached him with the idea.

“’We all’? Who’s that?”

The men started talking all at the same time.

“The second division guys-”

“-said he’d heard Blenheim and-“

“-told Pops and he-“

“-so they voted-“

“-think you’ve got what’s needed-“

Ace blinked, unable to understand everything they were saying.

“Oi, not all at once!” The others fell silent immediately. “You say Pops knows?” Rapid nods. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

To be honest, Ace wasn’t sure how he felt about the proposal. Pops hadn’t told him anything yet, and that meant he had some time to think it over.

 

* * *

 

 

“You still haven’t decided?”

Ace jumped in place, almost losing his balance on the railing. He had been so distracted he hadn’t even felt Marco approaching him.

“Decided? What?”

Marco scoffed, and moved to lean on the railing as well.

“Ace, everybody knows you know about the commander position.”

“Oh.” Ace blinked. “Pops hasn’t told me anything yet.”

“I know. He’s waiting for you to get over your emotional conflict to do it.”

Ace turned his head to look at Marco, confused by his words.

“I’m not conflicted. I just don’t think I should become a commander.”

“Why not?”

“You really have to ask?” Ace knew, he really did, that Marco was a smart guy, but sometimes he suspected the man could be extremely dense. It was clear why it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to become a commander, it didn’t matter that he has strong enough for it.

“Is it because you think people will be angry and think you were mocking them by taking the position when they discover your big, dark secret?” Marco asked, sarcasm evident in his voice. Sometimes, too, Ace wanted to strangle him. Or push him overboard.

“So what if I am?” He snapped. “Not everybody’s bound to be as understanding as you and the old man.”

Marco sighed in obvious exasperation. Ace looked down at the ocean.

“Ace, they _like_ you. And if someone changed their mind after they discover that little detail, I’ll personally kick them out of the ship before Pops has even time to attempt to reason with them.”

The younger man didn’t look at him, though he might have blushed slightly at Marco’s obvious protectiveness over him. He did lean into the man when Marco moved closer and placed an arm around his shoulders.

“So, ignoring your ancestry issues, do _you_ want to become a commander? It has some benefits aside from all the added responsibilities, though I would make sure you don’t get your own room.”

Ace had to laugh at that.

“Don’t worry, I like my current room.”

 

* * *

 

 

Garp punched his desk, rendering it to a pile of splinters and small chunks of wood. At least this time he refrained from going in search of a training group, limiting himself to glare at the still visible paper in between the remains of his desk.

_That. Fucking. Brat._

Was it really too much to ask that he keep a low profile? Instead of limiting himself to appear in the background of some pictures in an article about the Whitebeard Pirates, or maybe having his name mentioned now and then in one of said articles, the damn brat had made it into the cover of that morning’s edition.

Second division commander.

The brat had become the fucking second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. And his formal introduction to the position had consisted on singlehandedly destroying a pirate crew that had attacked one of the crew’s protected territories. Where cameras could record it. A crew whose captain had a bounty of four hundred and fifty million beli. Adding to it the rest of the crew and Ace’s position, now his grandson had earned the very notorious sum of five hundred and fifty million beli offered for his head.

And had Garp mentioned the kid’s new tattoo? Not the one that was an obvious tribute to Sabo, Garp understood and respected that one, but the very visible, huge jolly roger on Ace’s back. Exposed for the world to see, as the brat hadn’t worn a shirt in those pictures.

He was going to kill the brat as soon as he could find a way to get to him.

_Oh, wait…_

Now Ace _was_ the second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. He _had_ a bounty of five hundred and fifty million beli on his head, he _had_ entered the government’s list of the most wanted men in the world. Now it wouldn’t make much of a difference if the world learned who Ace, Portgas D. Ace, _Gol D. Ace_ , really was.

As he burst out laughing, Garp knew with certainty that Sengoku would kill him when he came back from his impromptu trip.

He was really eager to see how strong his beloved grandson had become.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco felt Ace shiver under the arm he had over the boy’s waist, and the younger pirate turned around, snuggling closer to him, burying his head under Marco’s chin and wrapping an arm around the man’s torso, the other pressed to his chest.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just got this horrible feeling out of nowhere, like something terrible is about to happen.”

Marco hummed and kissed the top of Ace’s head.

“Need a distraction?”

He could feel the smile against his skin before Ace answered.

“That’s a good idea.” He said, and shivered again.

Marco moved, pushing Ace on his back and placing his arms on each side of his head, leaning on his elbows and hovering over him. He smiled at Ace’s pale face, noticeable even with the decreasing evening light.

“It can’t be that bad.” He said, and earned a not-so-soft punch to the chest for his amused voice.

“My gut says it is.” Ace scowled at him, and punched him again when Marco chuckled.

Marco leaned down and kissed Ace on the left temple, trailing down until he reached the corner of Ace’s lips.

“Then let’s get you gut’s attention on something else.” He mumbled against his lips right before kissing him.

Ace hugged him, bringing their chests flush together, just like his legs wound around Marco’s waist and, when their already half erect cocks touched, Marco knew they weren’t going to take it slow.

As his hands went down to Ace’s ass, he decided that was fine by him.

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this is part of the original final note, because there's an explanation I'd like to share about the story.
> 
> Aerle, you did comment on the lack of Devil Fruit and what could happen, and this is what I have in mind, though I won’t write anything more of this story. As we know, even the smaller of events can change everything, so maybe, by having Ace join the crew earlier, it changed everything else in a way that resulted in the crew never fighting the one that had the Yami Yami no Mi, or perhaps they would fight them, but at a time where these people didn’t posses the fruit. And then there’s the possibility that said fruit found its way onto the Moby Dick all the same. In this case, no, Ace wouldn’t eat it, and the events that resulted in Thatch’s death and Ace pursuing Blackbeard would happen. The difference here would be Ace himself. I personally think the reason Ace lost at Banaro was because his fighting style had become too dependent on his Devil Fruit, as he insisted on using it even when it was clear it wouldn’t work.
> 
> But here Ace not only isn’t a Devil Fruit user, he knows how to control his haki and, due to his earlier departure from Dawn Island and the life he’s led, as well as having been two more years on board the Moby Dick, means he’s physically much stronger. If the fight between Blackbeard and Ace happened, then Ace would be the one to win. Let’s not forget Whitebeard said Blackbeard’s weak point was his weak physical defense.
> 
> You guys can choose whichever scenario you like the most for the future here, these are the possibilities :)


End file.
